Resurgence Cover reveal with giveaway

It’s been a thousand years since the Fates forced the gods into exile. Now they are preparing for war. A prophesied weapon is sought by both sides. Eros and the resistance want to use it to win their freedom, while the Fates seek to find it first and destroy it. Antara is the Tracker Eros needs, and finds herself drawn into a world she never knew existed—with feelings she may not be ready for.

South African, born and bred, Sharonlee Holder lives in one of the outer suburbs of Johannesburg in Gauteng, South Africa.Life is a happy and creative jumble of a husband, three grown daughters, one super cute grand-daughter, three dogs, a cat, and a mouthy African Grey parrot.Endless hours at the keyboard are supported by copious amounts of frothy coffee and ‘What ifs?’. Writing breaks are a blend of the big outdoors astride a motorbike, reading or watching anything and everything to do with fantasy, romance and the paranormal.

Antara first became aware of the distant sound of running water. Caught in that Twilight Zone, between dreams and reality, she found herself transported backwards by a year, and a smile slipped across her mouth. In about five minutes, she’d be able to hear the strains of Abba’s “Mamma Mia” in her mother’s warm alto. It was her favourite shower song. That or “Dancing Queen.” More than once, Tara had teased her mother for her cheesy choice in music. It only made her sing louder until, finally, she’d whirl out in a cloud of magnolia-scented steam with a towel wrapped around her, using her hairbrush as a microphone.

Full wakefulness slung Antara back to the present when the water shut off and nothing but silence filled her ears. Sadness and longing welled up, threatening to engulf her. She refused to give in to it this time and sat up, groaning quietly when her head complained at the abrupt movement. Satin slid cool against her bare skin and pooled about her hips. It took a moment before she registered her nudity, and when she did, Antara snatched the sheets back up over her breasts.

The darkened room afforded no clues as to where she might be, and lacked a sense of familiarity that might have identified it as either her or Hailey’s bedroom. With fear and a horrendous headache chewing behind her eyes, she battled to find the last thing she could remember.

Dark, red hair and pale, amber eyes.

Oh, sweet Jesus. That Murphy guy had drugged her and brought her to his psycho lair. She was going to end up as one of those sad women on Cold Case with her body found only years later at the bottom of a mine shaft.

Before she’d managed to formulate a plan of escape, a bright rectangle of light opened up to the side of her. Silhouetted within its frame was a heavily built male figure. For a split second, she could have sworn she saw wings. That must have been some seriously good shit she’d been drugged with.

“You’re awake.”

The moment he spoke, she knew who it was. Sin and whisky purred across the air and tickled at her senses, spreading warmth between her thighs.

Clutching the sheet tighter against herself, Antara glared into the dark where she thought she’d seen him go. “Where are my clothes?”

“You were burning up; I had to cool you down.”

There must have been a dimmer switch nearby, for the darkness lifted a little and was replaced by a soft, buttery light. Antara swallowed her tongue when she caught sight of Ross.

Wearing only a towel wrapped around his lean hips, he presented a veritable feast of male flesh. Hard packed muscle and sinew overlaid by rich golden skin that rippled as he moved. Either he sunbathed starkers, or what she had thought was a tan on his forearms and face were simply his natural colouring. A spattering of smooth, black hair dusted his chest and appeared again at his navel where it formed a tempting downward strip. A path she’d happily follow under other circumstances. Flustered, Antara dragged her gaze upward to the tattoo inked across his left pec. An unusual design, it consisted of a knotted heart woven through with an infinity symbol in a continuous loop.

“You done?” he asked, cocking a brow in sly amusement. “I can drop the towel if you like?”

Having been staring at the enticing slash of pelvic muscles that dove under the very item he was offering to discard, Antara blushed. Jerking her attention straight ahead, she caught sight of herself in the mirrored doors opposite the bed. She cast a surreptitious glance upward. No tacky mirrors on the ceiling. A tiny point in his favour. She swung her attention back in his direction. He was on the move again, prowling toward the bed with the air of a predator.

Oh dear God, yes, please! Wait, no! What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t know him from a bar of soap. Sure, he smelled amazing, and she couldn’t deny the way her body responded to his presence, but she wasn’t the girl that screwed strangers. She had more self-respect than that. Summoning her backbone, Antara narrowed a quelling look at him. “Don’t you dare come another step closer.”

He paused and tilted his head to one side in the manner of a dog hearing a strange sound. Then, he lunged at her and threw himself across the bed like a rugby player, diving over the try line.

A millisecond later, before she had a chance to process shock, the Adam’s Family theme song started up.

“Hey! That’s my phone!” She tried to grab it from his hand, but he was quicker and rolled away with it, leaving his towel behind and taking her sheet with him when it became tangled around his legs.

Left completely naked, they stared at each other for a few seconds. Shit got weird when his eyes flared an unearthly blue and he shuddered.

“You need to go. Now.” His voice rolled like thunder, and his body had gone as taut as a bow.

“Go where, exactly?” Clamping an arm across her breasts and covering her sex with her other hand, Antara scrambled awkwardly off the bed. “I don’t even know where the bloody hell I am! And while we’re at it, how dare you undress me while I’m passed out, you sick pervert.”

Ross dropped his chin and considered her from under the ledge of jet black eyebrows. A veritable heat wave rolled off of him, shimmering the air, caressing across her skin.

“Antara…”

A throbbing feral growl underscored the seductive way he said her name. Crushed velvet and satin. She was sure it was meant to be some sort of warning, but found she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move.